


Fascination with an Adder's Coils

by too_much_in_the_sun



Category: Penny Dreadful (TV)
Genre: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dubious Consent, Jossed, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, well there goes any chance of being able to show this account to Respectable People
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-06 21:32:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16840816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/too_much_in_the_sun/pseuds/too_much_in_the_sun
Summary: Sir Malcolm Murray manipulates Victor Frankenstein into joining his monster-hunting team.(Written just before the show started actually airing.)





	Fascination with an Adder's Coils

**Author's Note:**

> **Content warning: dubious consent. (One character manipulates another into sexual activity.)**

_From too much love of living,_   
_From hope and fear set free,_   
_We thank with brief thanksgiving_   
_Whatever gods may be_   
_That no life lives for ever;_   
_That dead men rise up never;_   
_That even the weariest river_   
_Winds somewhere safe to sea._

* * *

After Sir Malcolm had ascertained to his satisfaction that Victor was, at the least, considering joining up with his ragtag band of monster hunters, the two of them adjourned to a more private room for brandy.

"And what do I stand to gain from joining you?" said Victor.

Sir Malcolm smiled. "More brandy?" he offered, and, at Victor's nod, poured more into each of their glasses.

"Thank you," Victor said stiffly, as Sir Malcolm swirled his brandy in its glass. The last time someone had offered him alcohol had been in an East End gin-house, after he had intervened in a brawl. One celebratory drink had turned into several, and the experience had led him, after assessing his sadly-reduced finances, to swear off any alcohol he had to pay for. Brandy with a possible patron, however, didn't count.

"Are you engaged, Dr. Frankenstein?" said Sir Malcolm.

"No, sir." There had been Elizabeth, but he had left all that behind him when he left to begin his studies in London, and the letter confirming that she, too, wished to break off their engagement had come as a relief. He couldn't help but wonder where Sir Malcolm was going with this line of questioning.

"Good." Sir Malcolm looked pleased. Victor had noted that he wore no wedding band. "We may need you at any time, and being distracted by the female sex at a critical moment simply will not do."

"If you say so, sir," Victor mumbled, and downed another swallow of brandy. He was beginning to feel pleasantly giddy and relaxed, and had to remind himself that this was not a situation in which he could afford to get really drunk. 

"Have you ever been to a Turkish bath?" said Sir Malcolm, and there was something sharp and searching in his gaze.

"N-no, sir," Victor stammered, feeling a blush heat his cheeks. Now he thought he knew what Sir Malcolm was insinuating.

"Then I shall have to be frank," he said, and set down his glass of brandy. "Dr. Frankenstein -- Victor, if I may -- I would like to offer you a position not only in our little group, but in my bed. I should very much like to fuck you."

Victor started, and nearly spilled his brandy before having the presence of mind to set the glass down with a shaking hand. "S-sir!" he spluttered.

Sir Malcolm inclined his head slightly, indicating the bulge in the front of Victor's trousers. "Don't be coy, my dear fellow. I'd wager you've been sitting there aroused for more than half an hour from no more than sitting and talking with me. Don't deny it, Victor. You want me to fuck you. You've been thinking about it since you came here."

Victor squirmed in his chair. Sir Malcolm was quite right. His cock had been painfully hard for far too long without satisfaction, just from watching the way the older man carried himself, the strength in his wiry frame, his smooth, cultured voice. While they discussed the vampire creatures, Victor had found himself involuntarily envisioning Sir Malcolm bending him over the desk, or taking him against one of the bookshelves, and he had planned to stop in the club washroom on his way out to... remedy the situation.

"Sir, this is obscene," he managed.

"Yet you clearly enjoy it," said Sir Malcolm, "and what is enjoyable cannot be truly obscene. Some might call your own work obscene--" he saw Victor lean forward in his chair to object, and cut him off with a wave of one hand "-- though all you desire is to know the truth of life and death. Common notions of obscenity do not hold for men like us."

Victor clutched his hands together in his lap, belatedly trying to hide the growing lump in the front of his trousers. He only succeeded in brushing the heel of his palm over his erection, and had to suppress a gasp at the sudden friction and sliding pressure.

Sir Malcolm clucked his tongue in disapproval, as one might at a disobedient horse. "That simply will not do, my boy. Now, will you accept my offer or won't you?"

"You still haven't answered the question of money," Victor returned. "I will be getting paid for my work with you."

"Of course," Sir Malcolm said. "You're quite persistent, aren't you, Victor? Some might even call you stubborn. Or headstrong."

"What do you mean, sir?"

"Your attraction to me is obvious -- your body does not lie -- and yet despite my offer of sexual intimacy, you've done nothing to ease your obvious... discomfort. Instead you sit here talking of shillings and pence like a banker. Have you considered what you would look like, walking out of here with such a bulge in your trousers, and your lovely cheeks so red?"

Sir Malcolm didn't seem to be playing a trick on him by offering sex so frankly, but Victor still found himself, indeed, flushed with shame as well as arousal. "I was going to stop in the washroom on my way out."

"To do what, exactly?"

"Masturbate, sir," he said, unable to meet Sir Malcolm's eyes to admit to it. A strange feeling of unreality prickled at his skin; it was as though his secret fantasies had come to life.

"What's that, Victor? You must speak up." Sir Malcolm cupped a hand to one ear in imitation of an ear trumpet.

"I was going to m-masturbate in the washroom before I left." His cheeks felt heated, and his trousers seemed too tight to contain his erect cock. "So I wouldn't have to walk home like this."

"Indeed, my clever boy," said Sir Malcolm. "You look positively delectable, my dear, and more than a little debauched. If you were to stroll through the streets in such a state, I dare say we'd have a popular uprising," he said lightly. He snapped his fingers, as if drawing the attention of a hound. "Victor. Look at me."

Victor forced himself to follow the order, moving his gaze from the carpet to Sir Malcolm's face, his dark eyes.

"Thank you," said Sir Malcolm. "Now, will you accept my offer, or would you prefer to leave as you are, and let all of London see you?"

He didn't have to think about it, really. His patents brought in just enough money to live on, but not much beyond that. Just lately he had been scraping by on tea and penny rolls to save what money he could for the vast quantities of ice he required in the lab. Not to mention the chemical supplies and spare parts he always seemed to be running out of. From the moment he had received Sir Malcolm's little package, Victor had never really doubted that he would accept the offer of patronage.

And the other offer, as well, he could do nothing but accept. Perhaps it wasn't genteel, but Sir Malcolm's offer seemed genuine, and it was just what he had longed for, what he desired now. 

"You'll keep it a secret?" he said.

"Of course, dear boy."

"Then I accept," said Victor. "Both positions."

"Good boy," Sir Malcolm said. Victor felt a chill race down his spine at Sir Malcolm's turn of phrase, and did not know quite why. "Now, it is the least I can do to ease your little problem before I satisfy my own desires with you. Come; sit beside me on the couch." He patted the dark velvet at his side with his palm.

Victor settled down next to him with a feeling of anticipation and excitement. He was vividly aware of every breath, every slight change in position, how each light sensation of fine fabric against his sensitized cock seemed to send an electric charge to the base of his spine. He could smell Sir Malcolm, a mix of unfamiliar cologne and masculine sweat, and Victor wondered if he, too, was dizzily absorbing every detail of the situation. Probably not -- he seemed quite confident, not all aquiver as Victor was.

Sir Malcolm raised one hand to touch Victor's hair, then ran his fingers through it, stroking him as one might a housecat. "You're shaking like a leaf, my pet. Whatever is the matter?"

Victor shook his head. "Sir, I've never..."

Sir Malcolm put his hand on Victor's thigh and squeezed gently. "Victor, have you ever had sexual congress with a woman?"

He shook his head again, shyly. "No, sir."

"Or with a man?"

"No, sir."

"Then I hope I do not spoil you for others," he said, mock-seriously. He ran his hand up Victor's thigh towards the groin, finding the firm bulge of his cock and cupping it with his warm palm. "This might be easier if you had any experience at all. But I find I look forward to finding such things out for myself, don't you?"

"Yes, sir," Victor said, fighting the urge to roll his hips into Sir Malcolm's touch. It had been weeks, if not longer, since he had had the chance or the patience to pleasure himself, and having someone else's hand on his erection only made him crave release more badly. 

"I think you're only agreeing with me so I'll keep touching you," said Sir Malcolm, as he pressed his palm against Victor's cock. "Is that so?"

"No, sir," Victor said, and bit down hard on his lip as the older man rolled his thumb over the clothed head of his cock. "You are the only person who's -- touched my prick. O-other than me, I mean."

Sir Malcolm laughed, and slid his hand up from Victor's cock to unbutton his fly. "My dear boy, I find you most invigorating. Has anyone ever kissed you? I fear I may have to begin your education from the very start."

"Well, my nanny kissed me on the forehead when I was a child," he said, sucking in a gasp as Sir Malcolm slid his fingers past the layers of clothing to trace idle patterns on the soft skin of Victor's stomach, just above the thatch of dark hair at the root of his cock. "I don't suppose you're counting that."

"You have such beautiful lips, and have never been kissed? You surprise me at every turn, Victor. Here -- I shall give you a proper kiss, and then I should like to undress you." He cupped his hand under Victor's chin, and Victor had the feeling of being studied like a priceless relic. "Is that to your liking, my pet?"

"Very much so, sir," said Victor, suddenly aware that he could still taste the coffee he'd taken in lieu of dinner, and that his mouth had gone dry.

"Good," said Sir Malcolm, and he pressed his lips to Victor's.

Victor had not, strictly, told the truth when he confessed to never having been kissed. He had never had a lover, that much was true, but he had shared both kisses and tender caresses with his dearest friend once, before leaving for London.

Sir Malcolm's kiss, his lips on Victor's own, was something very different from those he had shared with Henry Clerval so long ago. His skin was tougher, almost leathered from years of African sun, and, unlike sweet Henry, who could hardly grow a moustache, Sir Malcolm wore a well-trimmed beard, which rubbed coarsely against Victor's own smooth cheeks as they kissed. Sir Malcolm's mouth tasted of brandy and cigars, Victor found as he slipped his tongue shyly past the older man's lips; Henry had tasted cleanly and simply of himself.

Sir Malcolm nipped roughly at Victor's lip, and pressed his hand to Victor's cock, stroking him through the fine fabric of his trousers, and all thoughts of Henry passed from his mind at once.

At last Sir Malcolm broke the kiss by pulling away from him. "Good boy," he said, his voice rough. "Now, how do you like that?"

"Very well, thank you," said Victor, bracing his palms against the couch as Sir Malcolm languidly rubbed his cock. He found himself more than occupied in trying to keep his voice even as he spoke, and his hips seemed to want to move without his direction, to press themselves wantonly into Sir Malcolm's hand. "I thought you wanted to undress me?"

"Yes, I do," said Sir Malcolm. "Lift your hips up a moment for me -- there's a good boy," he said as Victor instantly complied, and with one swift movement he dragged Victor's trousers down to his knees. "Oh, you naughty thing," he breathed, when he saw that Victor wore no drawers beneath his trousers. He drew his hand along the skin of Victor's inner thigh, and Victor shuddered.

"Sir, please," Victor begged as Sir Malcolm gently nudged his knees further apart, his fingertips rough against Victor's soft skin. He ached for Sir Malcolm to return his hand to his cock, whether it was in the form of firm pressure or gentle strokes; as long as he found release at last, he was willing to accept Sir Malcolm's touch in any form. 

"All in good time, Victor," said Sir Malcolm. "You have a lovely body, and someone ought to give it the attention it deserves."  


**Author's Note:**

> Epigraph: "The Garden of Proserpine" - Algernon Charles Swinburne, 1866.
> 
> if you're wondering what on earth: basically i saw the first episode before it technically aired and went "heh, that guy sent Victor a box of clothes... _I have an idea_ ", and then this happened
> 
> technically this is unfinished but there is, like, no way i'll actually finish it so here you go i guess
> 
> transferring this from a rich text file to AO3 didn't work, so i had to edit all this formatting by hand and therefore had to make extended eye contact with my horrible old porn, and i hope you're happy
> 
> (it turns out i posted a whole bunch of concept-y material for this on my tumblr, which i am not posting right now but maybe will in the future -- like DVD extras but for awful smut)
> 
> written between 5 May and 4 June 2014, superficially edited 2018


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